Where Legends Begin

[Kaisaan]

The smile faded like the last remnants of summer, already waning because of Autumn, but now gone all together. The steel quality that came to his face, exhausted or not, instantly made Merlin feel like a door had been slammed in her face and she cringed before it, too out of sorts to be angry anymore. No, there was only pain and deep abiding sadness that curled around her heart and threatened to wring the air from her lungs. But she was still breathing, her heart was still beating even as she felt like they shouldn't be. There was too much pain, too much pressure.

And yet her heart and lungs continued to funtion, as they'd always continued.

And Merlin knew pain and heartache. She knew how to get through it, ignore it, defeat it. But never had she thought it would come from Arthur...and the worst part was that she'd trusted him. Wholeheartedly, without reservations and if she kept anything from him, it was not because she didn't trust him with the information, it was because she wanted to protect him, lighten his load. But never was there distrust. Despite her inner demons, she'd trusted him with her, with all she was, all she could do and now...when she needed his support the most, when she was so very scared of HERSELF...

Merlin closed her eyes at his words if only to stop the tears, pulling them back in as she did her breath, slow and steady as she nodded. She forced dark eyes open, but didn't look to Arthur. She'd caught the false warmth in his eyes, so very different from the ways she'd seen him look at her in the past and it sent a streak of fiery agony to her heart to know he was faking that emotion now. He sees nothing to talk about and for once...Merlin agrees because she doesn't think she can talk....not without giving in to the emotion that claws at her throat, at her eyes, threatening a broken sound to exit, tears to pour forth.

So she silently acknowledges his words and lets him leave because she knows that is what he wants to do. She's done more than he can handle, become more and Merlin is sure he's seeing her for the danger she is now. She won't be surprised in the least if he distances himself from her and he calls off their...well, it's not even an engagement, is it? It's an affair. And Merlin won't be shocked if he says it's done and it's only when Guinevere comes back that she falls apart and lets the auburn-haired woman hold her, saying nothing as the tears spoke their own stories.

And Guinevere's silent anger spoke hers.

--

They left the next day without fanfare, slipping away at the first cusp of false dawn. Guinevere left a note for Arthur with Danna, knowing it would get to him. The letter contains the two women's itinerary. They are to find the druids to see if Merlin might be helped and they didn't plan to be gone more than ten days at most. Guinevere says nothing more. There are no words of sisterly love, no advice, no warmth in the letter at all for she is entirely cross and disappointed in him. She's not gotten a chance to speak to him before they left, but the Lady will have plenty to say when she sees him again.

The royal idiot.

Now, though, she watches Merlin carefully. The healer could use a healer right now it seems for she is still weak, still shaky as she sits atop Zamasi's back, the mare's gait exceptionally smooth but the dark-haired woman still sways slightly and she is far too pale, but while her eyes are dulled with a grief that makes Guinevere's own heart ache, there is no true sickness there and Merlin's dark blue gaze does show some semblance of determination. It can be seen in her jawline, in the way she holds the reigns tightly and the Lady is glad to see it.

Soon they will be with the druids - of this Guinevere is certain - and then Merlin shall be helped. She must believe this for she will not give up on her friend so soon.

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur finishes up speaking what his heart sister might call "nonsense". The truth of the matter is that he doesn't feel like the woman standing before him is Merlin. It disturbs him like the drilling of a woodpecker to the core of a tree. He cannot stand to look at her, such a silent perfection in the curve of her jaw. One that is scar-less. It scares the King to no end and before he knows it, he is leaning over her, kissing the top of her head and bidding her goodnight. Whatever she might say, he ignores, his mind spinning as if he were drunk on his thoughts. That woman is not Merlin. He reminds himself. No scars. No white hair.

So he drinks. Immediately after leaving Merlin's quarters, he moves to the cellar, no guard stopping him, picking up two bottles of corked magnificence, downing as much as he can until he feels his core warmed. Moving upstairs, he locks himself in his room. There he downs one in a few hours, not wanting to face the real world or its consequences. He hardly notices the clutter around him, his own quarters disheveled but not quite as much as this one. Things aren't just pushed around but they are broken. Shattered. Not just pushed around and disorganized like Arthur's.

There is a woman who is not his down in that bed downstairs in the healing wing. The bottle tips back as the tears come to his eyes. The room starts to spin but Arthur welcomes it with another drink, the hard liquid changing the way he sees the world into a blur. His hearing becomes fuzzy, mouth open and dry from lack of water. What a hangover it will bring him. But Arthur doesn't care. He doesn't stop until the bottle is done, hours later, and he is passed out on the floor, not realizing he has locked himself in Merlin's room.

Merlin and Guinevere leave that morning, Arthur still snoring, his back rested against Merlin's bed post as he lies on the ground. To anyone's knowledge, the room would remain empty until the Ladies return. Arthur has dealt with hangovers before but never one along with a broken spirit. When he finds no Merlin downstairs in the healing wing, he is angered, rather furious, on where she had gone. A servant, Danna, reminds him of what had occurred last night, taking him up to his room to recuperate and hand in the letter that had been left for him by a disgruntled Guinevere. Arthur places the parchment on the bed stand, his stomach threatening to heave up its remains and his head throbbing with each breath.

It's better for him to recover and then read the letter. But when he does, he may not like what he reads.

 

[Kaisaan]

"The Druids can not help me, Guivevere. They told my father that when I was younger. They had to help me then, too, but my power was almost beyond them at that point. They warned that they'd be able to do nothing more if it grew beyond my control again."

Merlin speaks the words rather calmly when they are good and away from Camelot, and she watches with an almost impassive expression as Guinevere rounded on her, turning back in her saddle from where she rode ahead, her eyes wide and mouth agape in furious shock. "What!? Then what in the bloody hell are we doing out here!?" The auburn-haired woman rarely swore. She'd scold and raise her voice and get angry, but she rarely cursed unless she was greatly scared, enraged or frustrated beyond belief. Perhaps she was a little bit of everything right now as she looked back at the healer, at her friend that she's taken from the healing wing where she should be resting, her friend who is so terrified of herself that Guinevere can see it even when Merlin doesn't want her to, a friend she's desperate to help...and a friend who's just informed her that their plans are obsolete.

The dark-haired healer shakes her head, not answering as she looks around slowly and then back the way the'd come with such sadness that Guinevere knows the wordless answer and she wheels her horse around, coming alongside Merlin before she reaches out and grips the other woman's arm. "Merlin, no. That is NOT why we came out here. You're not running away!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes."

Merlin shakes her head. "No. Not that. Never that. I promised. I must watch him. I must protect him, but..." Her hands tighten on the reigns and Zamasi gives her flat ears. She's tolerating the bridle for her mistress' sake, but that doesn't mean she likes it or appreciates the pressure exerted on her mouth when Merlin is stressed. Merlin loosens her grip without thought. "I can't stay, Guin. I can't...face him everyday and have him look at me like....like that, like he doesn't even know me." The last is a whisper and Guinevere sighs, her grip on Merlin's arm loosening.

"Merlin, Arthur is an idiot at times, we both know that. He's just in some kind of shock and while I personally think it's ridiculous, he IS a man and they do process differently than we do." the Lady tries to assure, but Merlin shakes her head and looks down at her palm as she opens it. "Maybe he is right. Maybe we tried to defy Fate, the natural order of things. He is a King. His father was a King, his grandfather, his father before that....a generation of Pendragons, a pure bloodline, noble, brave, wise."

"Pigheaded..." Guinevere muttered under her breath, but Merlin seemed not to hear her.

"And I am...I am the daughter of a dead Hand of the King, of a Druid mother. I am a discredited Lady turned commoner. I...am not even sure I am human, sometimes." She's not entirely sure where those words have come from, but Guinevere gives her a sharp look...but she says nothing of it, instead speaking of a different topic for she knows Merlin will not see sense on this, not yet. "Merlin, if we are not going to see the Druids, where ARE we going?"

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur spends his time distracting himself from the letter that is on his own bed stand. He knows that his actions towards Merlin were seen as absolutely hideous but in his mind, they were and are right. That woman, for whatever reason, is not Merlin. She might have the beauty, flawless and completely intoxicating, but that is only her looks. It troubles Arthur. Digs into him like a spike to the ground that Merlin is not the same. It might look strange to others, Arthur angry at the fact that she doesn't have those grotesque marks on her skin. But that is what makes her real. She is a woman of battle and of fire but also love and compassion. Those scars have not pushed Arthur away but rather have done the opposite.

Her beauty has been defined by those scars, amplified, not covered. Any other flawless woman can come and try to steal the heart of the King. Many have tried, he knows they have. But none are so bold as Merlin. Without words, she has made him drink those blue eyes in. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees them. Arthur knows that she is gone but he tries his best to ignore the greater, smarter, whispers of his brain. There is nothing that can stop them because the more he ignores those thoughts, the harder they become to stop. They stack, like books, on top of one another. Soon, the King might come to his senses but until then, he stays in the world where Merlin is still out there.

"I have to go find her if she is out there somewhere." He whispers to himself one night, laying in bed and looking up to the ceiling of his bed. "Ugh," he groans, turning around sharply so that he pushes his nose into the pillow. His arms move over his head, fingers gripping his blonde locks. Taking in a long breath, he looks back to the draining candle beside his bed, the letter resting against it. With a clenched jaw, he sits up and rips open the yellow stained parchment. "Let's see what the hell you had to say, Guinevere." The words are crisp against the paper and he lets his eyes flow down it.

 

[Kaisaan]

Arthur -

As I spoke to you the night prior, Merlin and I travel to seek out the Druids. If there is hope that they can help our Healer, than I feel we must try to gain information from them. She might blame herself for what has occurred, but I hardly deem that fair. She is indeed more terrified of herself and what has happened to her, and meeting our approval than she is deadly to all around her. We know Merlin. She desires to harm no one in Camelot. She just must be made to see that such a noble desire will override anything else. I will try to make her see this while we are away.

We shall not endeavor to be gone more than ten days at most. If we are kept longer, then our trail will start on the Western edges of the forest. I know your Knights would find us if the worst should happen.

I will bring Merlin back to you safely if I can convince her to return at all. She can be quite stubborn and foolishly self-sacrificing, as you know. You both have that frustrating habit in common.

- Guinevere

---

It was five days later that Guinevere got an answer to her question.

Merlin had refused to say who it was they were going to see and the Lady had stopped asking after a time, actually a bit heartened to see Merlin taking charge, an idea in the Healer's mind about who might actually be able to give her some advice. Now whether such advice would be good or bad, whether this person could help and even who this person was...well, that was up in the air to Guinevere, but she trusted Merlin and so she followed the other woman deeper and deeper into the forests.

The passed the place the Druids dwelled, the land of the elves, going far deeper into the Hellsingr woods than Guinevere had ever dared to imagine they would, but Merlin never faltered and on the fifth day, the healer stopped at the foot of a mountain, looking up into its clouds and she pursed her lips before letting out a shrill, haunting whistle that seemed to soar as the wind did, seeking whom it was calling.

There was silence then, such silence that Guinevere wondered if there was any life in the forest at their backs at all. And then a rush of air, the sound of something like...wings? Very large wings....connected to a very large creature and the Lady gasped, the breath rushing from her lungs as she beheld a sight few men got to witness. And yet she could hardly comprehend it, the magnificence of the sight, the sheer unlikeliness of it, the impossibility.

A dragon in flight. She was looking at a dragon!

Guinevere tore her eyes away from the descending creature for a fraction of a second to see Merlin smiling, dismounting and as the dragon landed beyond them, approaching the creature. Guinevere could merely gape in a very undignified way and it wasn't until her horse started to put up a real protest beneath her that she came back to herself - sort of - and dismounted as well, half watching the dragon and half paying attention to her fumbling fingers as she tied her horse to a tree and then hesitated to approach. She saw Merlin beckon her closer as if it was the natural thing in the world, already seated near the dragons claws, and that was when Guinevere truly started to wonder if Merlin was right.

The possibility that the healer wasn't human at all seemed a likely notion at the moment.

 

[Vacyr]

At first, Arthur tried to hide his feelings. Whenever he picked up a sword, he swung it with ease and precision, his muscles doing exactly what he tells them to. But with each swing, he remembers a time where he had wielded the same crossbarred weapon and sliced through an enemy in order to save Merlin. Oh there had been many times, at least as Arthur recalls, where such circumstances had arisen. Perhaps more were dreams, nightmares, after the fact where Arthur was too slow or aimed the bow the wrong way and Merlin was lost. Such a thought clenches his heart in the cavity of his chest. The more he tries to forget the separation, the more it finds itself back into his mind.

"Are you well, My King?" Danna asks one bright morning, the deep purple pools underneath Arthur's eyes fading gently back to his usual complexion. But his servant, with her wild hair all tied up into a bun, doesn't miss a beat of Arthur's heart. She smiles and takes his hands, pulling him up from the red lined chair with a deep oak frame. With a twinkle of a plan written in her eye that Arthur doesn't catch. Slowly, Arthur lifts up from his seat, not even thinking of what her intentions are. Not until she, quite like Merlin, takes matters into her own hands. Before he can open his mouth, she steps into his arms, fingers linking together around his waist. "You don't seem to be yourself at all, hm?"

"Danna, what are you," the King sighs, not understanding the heat her body gives off. But it's pale in comparison to Merlin, another sharp sting, like an arrow, striking his heart to not have her near. He keeps his eyes up and away from hers even though he can feel them searching for his. It's not in the same way Merlin's does for he won't give her the satisfaction of finding them. "Please just let go of me." A sharp order is something far from Arthur's tone, her closeness not troubling him for a moment. If she wanted something out of him, he would have seen something like this before. Or…

"Then kiss me first. Tell me that you love me, Arthur Pendragon of Camelot." Arthur snaps his head down, his dark blonde brow curving downwards along with every muscle in his face. Did she just? Is the first thought that runs through the King's mind and he immediately steps backwards, the back of his thigh colliding with the arm of the chair. He is speechless, wanting to scream at her but too confused for any words to surface. He feels as though he has been shot once more by one of his close allies. But she mimics his steps. He moves back, she advances, much like a dance between their feet.

After standing with his mouth gaped open much like a fish under water, Arthur speaks before she can. "I will not and cannot do such a thing. Danna, you should be ashamed of yourself for asking… for … for…" he stutters, blinking rapidly as if that would cure his shredded heart. Had he been so blind these past few months? Did Danna actually wish for Arthur to be hers? The King wobbles where he stands, hand moving to his forehead. "No… what? No. Danna… how? Get out, just get out!" His strong arm motions towards the door but she doesn't move.

"Why not?" She questions, a silver smile pulling her lips upwards. Hands lift up as if they were to press against his chest but the King, coming to his senses quite immediately, grabs her by the wrists and sidesteps her advances.

"Because I love Merlin! I always have and I always will!" Arthur blurts out and all of a sudden, this advancing, sneaky Danna, stops and places her hands on her hips. Once again, Arthur's mind is a sea of confusion. His lips move into a circle, eyes lessening their spite, as he tries to speak but Danna beats him to it.

"Then why haven't you gone after her, you fool?" Her eyebrow rises, "A woman needs to know that she is loved. Now go before she thinks you have taken another." Passing him like a breath of air, she picks up his dirty clothes from the corner of his bed. "I would expect you, King of Camelot, whose love is as strong as the steel sword you carry, to not let her be gone for so long," with that said, she walks out of the room. This leaves Arthur speechless, piecing together what just happened before running to the guards and screaming at them to get his horses ready. Someone has finally come to his senses.

 

[Kaisaan]

"Merlin...that is a.....it's a...." Guinevere can't even form her sentence properly and Merlin smiles a bit, but doesn't help her friend all that much, merely patting the ground beside her and encouraging the Lady to sit before she falls over from shock. Dark blue eyes then turn to the dragon and the creature tilts his head, looking to Guinevere with a type of smile to his maw. "The Lady Guinevere. The Dragon Speaker has told me much about you. I am Kilgarrah, and it is an honor meet you." The deep voice sweeps over both women and Guinevere can only nod, eyes wide, wanting to speak back as that seems polite, but lost for words.

Arthur would be rather amused by that, she is sure.

Kilgarrah doesn't seem to mind her silence as he directs his large eyes to Merlin and his head lowers to come closer to her, sniffing deeply, concern flickering in the depth of his gaze. "You have been through regeneration. Why?"

Merlin frowns, brows furrowing in puzzlement. "What?" She sits up straighter and her eyes grow sharper when the dragon's head moves back and he looks unsure of saying more. "Kilgarrah, I came here for your help. I am losing control of my power and I don't know why. What is this regeneration you've spoken of?" she almost demanded and the large creature growled deep in his chest, but answered, his head lifting higher, arching.

"Have you not seen the changes to yourself?"

Guinevere winces, noting the stricken, fearful, almost panicked look in Merlin's eyes, though, to the Healer's credit, she doesn't react nearly as badly as she'd done that first night she'd discovered such a thing. Guinevere had been hard-pressed to calm Merlin then and more than one tree near their camp had been uprooted and snapped and splintered multiple times as her power went berserk. She'd been terrified to find the lack of scars, even childhood ones, nicks and scrapes. And her hair...dark again, something she'd not seen in two years. She hadn't understood what was happening - she couldn't heal herself, she knew that and scars couldn't be healed anyway! - but had been unable to find an explanation. Now Kilgarrah seemed to be offering one and while Merlin was still scared, she listened, nodding to the question and the dragon continued.

"That is a regeneration. You have...healed your body, repaired any damages, strengthened it again. You are not as thin as the last time I saw you and your coloring is better. You had been feeling exhausted before this change, yes?"

Merlin nodded slowly and Guinevere finally found the courage to speak. "You speak of changes and surely Merlin has changed, but how was this done?"

 

[Vacyr]

Ceridron is the first friendly face that Arthur sees when he storms from his room, his mail armor clinking to the beat of his steps. The man greets him with a large smile. "Something the matter, my lord?" he questions, a smoothness to his voice that Arthur doesn't think he would be capable of. But instead of speculating, the King nods his head and tells Ceridron of his intentions to find Merlin. Before passing the last staircase, Ceridron puts his arm out in front of his King, fingertips daring to touch the triangular gorget that rests against his collarbones.

"You seem in a hurry to stop me, Ceridron," Arthur breathes, attempting to sidestep his friend with a chuckle but the man's body comes before him again.

"Arthur I must speak to you now for what I have to say," his head turns to the side as if he were checking to see around their circumference, "if of an urgent and… critical matter. I know you are going to find Merlin but she is with Guinevere and I'm sure that the ladies can manage on their own." Before Arthur can speak more, Ceridron is already two sentences ahead of Arthur's thoughts. "You see, it's about your people, Arthur. I… I would rather speak to you in private about such a matter. Please, listen to reason and come and help your people instead of abandoning them as if they held nothing against your heart." His eyes practically plead with Arthur's and the King finds his stomach tightening.

The King shakes his head, "My people will be back when I return but first I -must- find my Merlin." His head lowers slightly, eyes just daring Ceridron to cross him. The sternness of his glance is enough to break stone but his friend holds firm to the slabs of stone beneath their feet.

"My Lord, please, it will only take a little of your time. I'm sure you can find Merlin before the sun sets. I beg of you to hear me out or else you might not return to a Kingdom at all."

Looking over Ceridron's shoulder at the turn of the staircase, the King steps backwards in defeat. "I once told Merlin," he starts, a sad smile on his lips that he cannot find her immediately, "that my people come first no matter what my heart might think. I am yours, Ceridron, but you must speak quickly of such matters for I will ride from Camelot well before nightfall to find Merlin and Guinevere." The two men walk swiftly side by side, Arthur's pace faster than usual to his room than he has done in a long time.

 

[Kaisaan]

"Merlin is not what she appears to be." was Kilgarrah's simple answer, but before the dragon could go on and explain more, Guinevere was frowning lightly, seeming to forget her shyness and awe of the creature towering over her for the moment as she questioned again. "What does that mean?" Even as the Lady spoke, Merlin was protesting, her voice having grown slightly hot with confusion and anger because of that puzzlement.

"I'm exactly what I appear to be! I am Merlin, I am me." she insisted and the dragon merely looked down at her patiently, his deep eyes meeting her dark ones with a wisdom and assurance that would have been comforting had it not been for his next words.

"You are Ynni Anfarwol."

Merlin stared at Kilgarrah, disbelief overwhelming in her eyes and yet denial as well, even as such an emotion should not have been needed if what the dragon spoke was not true. But something deep in her mind sparked, inflaming the shields she was keeping about herself concerning her true identity and that vehemence was in her words, almost trying to convince herself just as much as she was the dragon. "I am Emrysia Wyllt! I am Merlin! I am not some protective spirit of Britain's power! I am human!" How could she be someone she'd heard about in stories as she grew up!?

Kilgarrah growled slightly, his voice growing powerful, booming with authority and Guinevere winced, wanting to back away, but staying by Merlin, looking back and forth between Merlin and the towering creature nervously, but with some true interest as well, starting to note the sense of power about them both. So very similar as if they were kin of some kind. "You are in a mortal's frame, nothing more! And whether you choose to believe it or not, you shall always be Ynni Anfarwol. You will burn through that mortal shell and you shall once again be released into your true form. You simply refuse to remember who you are and such is beyond my understanding."

Merlin's teeth grit, her glare fierce as she'd stood and seemed to be facing down the large creature. "I. Am. Not. A. Spirit." she hissed and the dragon merely looked at her for a long moment, thoughtful and quiet before he finally spoke, tactic changing rather abruptly and throwing Merlin off entirely.

"What is Arthur?"

The healer blinked at the question and glanced at Guinevere who gave her a wide-eyed look. The Lady merely shook her head, all this far beyond her and her mind simply trying to absorb all she was hearing so she might make sense of it at a later date, when the two beings of great power weren't arguing with each other. Merlin glanced away from her friend and back to Kilgarrah, answering warily. "Arthur is the Once and Future King."

Kilgarrah's eyes narrowed and his head lowered down toward her until she could nearly feel his breath stir her dark hair and she stood a bit straighter, recognizing a challenge and this time when the dragon spoke, she truly tried to HEAR the question. "What is Arthur?"

Merlin tilted her head, frowning deeply as she truly thought about it this time, as she listened to the inner voice that whispered to her exactly what Arthur was, what she'd always known he was. And she spoke those words into existence, slowly, quietly. "Arthur is...he is the earth. He is the blood of his people. Arthur is the spirit of Britain, the power of Britain."

"And are you not his Protector? Do you not protect the Spirit of Britain? Are you not the Protective Spirit, the Immortal Power?" Kilgarrah stated calmly, and Merlin stared at him, looking both stricken and with dawning realization coming over her face. The dragon spoke quietly into that realization, confirming. "Ynni Anfarwol, that is who you are and you must learn to regulate that power while in your mortal form. You are not able to use so much energy in this form. You must learn to use it wisely for you have used too much, too quickly. That is why you have regenerated."

Merlin nodded slowly, not entirely accepting, but willing to stop arguing in the face of the dragon's wisdom. "Then why can I not just do that again?"

"If you attempted to do such, your form would change completely. This mortal frame would turn to dust and you would be reborn into another, a child once more if you were allowed to take a mortal form at all. You would not be able to protect Arthur as such."

 

[Vacyr]

"Have a drink, Arthur," Ceridron suggests to his King in a humble voice, knowing that he is mere suggestion when it comes to matters of a King. "And sit down if you would, my liege." Pulling out Arthur's desk chair, the King sits down and takes the goblet from Ceridron once he finishes pouring it. "Now then, this matter of your state. I have been looking over your documents, as you suggested I do so, and I noticed that there has been a slight increase in crimes such as looting, stealing, killings, you get the picture." Ceridron pours himself a tall goblet of wine for himself and leans against the desk that Arthur sits at. Arthur, folding his fingers together on the shaft of his goblet, chews the inside of his lip as Ceridron speaks more of the details of such crimes and why, he considers, they're rising.

"I believe, if I would, my liege," Ceridron takes a large gulp of his wine before looking directly at Arthur, "that there has formed a guild within Camelot that wishes to see your head on a platter." Arthur's ears can hardly believe such words, his eyes growing wide as he looks to Ceridron. The young man tightens his lips, his face as hard as stone when it comes to his seriousness. "I know, my King. I too had to check the numbers myself. But from what my spies have heard in the streets, your people believe that you are not taking care of them as much as you should be. Your eyes, for whatever private matter, are directed elsewhere."

Arthur's shoulders slowly lose their power, his body molding inwards towards his core. He never thought his people would feel the neglect that Ceridron spells out for him. The man's words, however kind they are, hit the King with sharp speed and force. He goes on to talk about a leader of this guild allying with other Kingdoms that wish to see Arthur dead. The wine tastes as bitter and unsatisfying as if it were blood in his mouth and Arthur places it down on the block of wood, not wishing to touch it for the duration of this conversation.

"I know it's hard Arthur," Ceridron whispers, a friendly hand moving to the King's shoulder, giving him a sturdy shake, "but you must stand tall for Camelot's sake. Whatever personal matters have been pulling you away from your work, please, I beg of you, to stop them getting in the way of you being the best King of Camelot you can be. Have your knights search every house in Camelot and I am sure you will find evidence of this guild."

"What is their insignia? What is their name?" Arthur asks, rubbing his hands over his eyes, "Why would this come to me now? I have never heard of such a guild wishing for my head."

"Precisely, my King. You must surround yourself with only those knights who you trust. Those men who have pledged themselves to you and you have their undying word that they will never lift a finger toward you. Gwaine. Boris."

"Merlin. Guinevere."

Ceridron, his eyes suddenly sad, sighs heavily. "You must push them away sire."

"Push them away!" Arthur shouts, immediately feeling an explosion in his chest. "I will do no such thing. Those who have been more loyal to me than the moon and the earth beneath my feet."

His hand recoils from Arthur's shoulder as Arthur shrugs it off and stands. The scratching of the chair legs echo in the room but do not drown out Arthur's screaming voice.

"Please, Arthur, calm down. Listen to me. This guild, Arthur listen!" Ceridron tries to quiet the King but Arthur's wrath is enough to rip down mountains. "The leader of this guild is a womanizer. He uses their sex to break down the strong men. I have evidence. Right and true evidence. If you would just sit down, my king, I can show you. Why do you think they were so eager to leave the Kingdom together? Adamant about it, hm? Sit and listen and I will tell you everything."

 

[Kaisaan]

"If I am all you claim, why do I not know this for myself?"

If such a thing was true, how could she not know it? Something this big, there should have been some indication, something that would let her know she was not what she thought she was. Why would she not know? How could that be better when she did not understand the rules she must follow? It didn't make sense to her and apparently it didn't make a great deal of sense to Kilgarrah either as his large head shook slowly, eyeing her with a contemplative air about him. "That I can not answer, Dragon Speaker, for it makes little sense to me. I can sense what you are, as have many before me, I greatly suspect, but it is clear you do not know your own nature."

"I still don't feel like I know it. I still feel like me, as if I am merely hearing a story." The healer admitted, but her fingers catch some of her dark hair and she looks at it with a frown. "And yet, the proof is before me. I do not understand it."

"Perhaps it is not for you to understand every facet of yourself, but to simply be more aware of your limitations such as you are now. There must be a purpose in your forgetfulness for it almost seems willful to me. A regeneration should have introduced you back to yourself, and yet you know nothing. There is no accident in that."

Merlin was nodding slowly, thoughtfully and she glanced to Guinevere and then to the dragon, reaching up to rub her forehead as if that might help ease the pressure of the information she'd been given. "Arthur can not know of this."

"Merlin-" Guinevere's protest is immediate and the healer holds up a hand, head coming up and her dark blue eyes fierce. "No! He must not know, not now. Perhaps in time, but Guin, he already jests that I am a goddess. If I were to tell him I was dangerously close to that equivalent, but that I couldn't explain why I was here and that I didn't remember who I was? How do you imagine he'd take that?"

The auburn-haired woman presses her lips together tightly, thinking that through and she nods slowly, recognizing that once more, Merlin is a few steps ahead of her, thinking of Arthur and Camelot above all else. She is thinking of all angles of the situation and that is what Guinevere knows will make Merlin a good Queen and equal for Arthur. "He would feel betrayed. He would wonder if everything had been a ruse, a cruel trick of the gods."

"And I have been gone two years. I admitted to him that I had gone North. All that would be cast into suspicion, if not by Arthur himself then by those who would see him fall. They would use me to bring him down, to shatter his heart so that Camelot is vulnerable and then Britain would fall. Arthur can not know what I am, if I am Ynni Anfarwol at all. Not yet. I don't even remembering being such a thing, so I do not think there is great harm in keeping such knowledge quiet. As far as I am concerned, it is not a lie. I am not Ynni Anfarwol, not to me. I am Merlin and that is all I have ever been and all I will ever be to him. That is my choice, whether I remember who I was or not."

Guinevere was smiling softly and she sighed, nodding in compliance. "If shall be as you say."

 

[Vacyr]

"I would not bring this to your knowledge unless it was the truth." Ceridron breathes in, closing his eyes for a moment and playing his role well. Arthur leans back and lowers his hands before they might reach out and strangle his friend in front of him. Arthur, finding no strength left in him to quarrel, leans back on the arm of his seat and crosses his arms as if protecting his heart from what the young man might say next. When he pauses, Arthur finds himself scoffing.

"Be honest, Ceridron, be true. Your King wishes to hear what you have to say and you better provide him with something well worth its weight. Do you forget that I have the power to banish anyone and everyone who I deem fit in this Kingdom?" It's true that Arthur's voice rises, the trust he has for both those ladies outweighing this man's feeble words in a heartbeat. But as a good and just King, he must remind Ceridron to what he is up against. "With a flick of my wrist, I could have you sitting in the cells many stories beneath my very feet. How would you feel? So I tell you again, Ceridron," Arthur's eyes grow dark, such a topic not humoring the King in the slightest, "to choose your next words carefully." With a rise of his brows, Arthur keeps his arms tightly folded as he crosses the stone to the far window so that he may catch a glimpse of Merlin's room.

"My lord," Ceridron speaks with the same confidence that Arthur had met him with, "I swear to you on my life that my words are as true as I make of them. You cannot blame me if this information is false--"

"And are you saying that it is false, Ceridron?"

"N-no, my lord, I would never. But," he swallows, "I am just suggesting that if it were to be false--"

"Then you are covering your own backside, is that correct? You can't be bothered with the pain of a wrong decision?" Arthur turns, his face like that of a worn, weathered, stone, "Have a backbone for one! Take responsibility for what you are going to say. If you are going to get anywhere here in Camelot, you must take initiative!" Before Arthur screams more, he twists his body back to the window, focusing on the blackness of Merlin's empty room. His heart condenses in his chest, the King's hand moving to that very spot. "Speak of this guild leader and my lack of good judgement."

"I never said," Ceridron starts but another quick glance from Arthur and he snaps his mouth shut. A few, long, moments pass where the breath is slow to come out of both the men. Ceridron breaks the ice between them first. "Merlin's appearance," he starts, once she had been brought to the medical wing, he soon followed to check up on Arthur a day later, "has changed. Drastically. Such gifts can be given by this guild master."

"Does he have a name?"

"No, my King, he does not to my knowledge. This is all that my scouts have found on him he moves like a shadow and has magic. Or at least that is what the villagers say. He threatens them, blackmails them other times, but most influences the women through … dishonorable ways. Enchantments, spells." Before Arthur can protest, he keeps speaking, "But listen to me when I say that this man will stop at nothing to kill you. Merlin, Guinevere, he knows that they are close to you. Merlin cracked those pillars in the great hall, brought a storm that panicked the entire town. Those aren't her normal qualities. That woman--"

"Isn't Merlin." Arthur lifts his chin up, not turning his eyes away from the window.

"Precisely. I know this is a lot to take in," he takes the cup from the table and hands it back to Arthur after refilling it, "please have another drink."

 

[Kaisaan]

"I'm still not convinced I am an immortal spirit."

Merlin declares the words to Kilgarrah calmly and the dragon nods. "I do not blame your doubt, but you must start to put such personal things aside. You have an enemy you must face and whether you believe you are Ynni Anfarwol or not, he knows your true form and his own. He might be known in the mortal realms as Mordred, but he is known by another name; Celfyddydau Tywyll, and he will not hesitate to use that knowledge or his power against you and Arthur."

Guinevere's eyes had gone round as saucers. "Celfyddydau Tywyll is Mordred!? The Spirit of Black Arts is the Prince of the North?"

"King." Merlin corrected absently, thinking along a different track, but Guinevere forced her to come back to a different topic with her elevated voice, something the auburn-haired haired woman didn't do often. "King?! When did that happen!"

Dark blue eyes blinked, looking from Guinevere to Kilgarrah, but the dragon didn't reply, giving her a raised eye-ridge so that the healer looked back to her friend and sighed. "Mordred has killed his own father, just as he killed Uther. He is making his way to Camelot now, but it can be guaranteed that word of his coming will not be heard in Camelot until he is upon us. He will disguise himself so that the scouts will not see him or his men. He means to try and embarrass Arthur."

Guinevere blinked, staring at the dark brunette and Merlin frowned, slowly leaning back. She'd seen that look on the Lady's face before. It never boded well for the person on the other end of her tongue....and Guinevere had been through a lot today and had held it together with surprising honor and fortitude on her part. She was a credit to her lands and her father's name. And right now she was going to give Merlin an earful. "You've known all of this for how long?"

"....a week, well, now more since I was sick..."

"And you said nothing?! Have you completely lost your mind! You should have told Arthur! Killed Uther!? How did you know that?! Have you told Arthur THAT at least?!"

"Yes! I did tell Arthur that. Guin, I-"

"This is the North, Merlin! We only have a shaky alliance with them as it is. Arthur can not afford to look weak!"

"I wasn't going to let him! I was going to tell him, much sooner than this, but THIS wasn't even in the plans, Guinevere!" Merlin spits back and the auburn-haired woman sits back, going silent and bids herself to steady calm as she sighs and slowly looks from Merlin to Kilgarrah and back again. "So Celfyddydau Tywyll is Mordred...and he's coming to meet with Arthur. A spirit is meeting a King. Why?" Something seems to occur to Guinevere then and she looks to Merlin, pale eyes searching. "And why are you here? Why Arthur?"

Merlin finally smiles a bit and whether she believes what the dragon has told her or not, she does know this is true. "Because Arthur is to be the greatest King that ever lived, Guinevere, and it is my task to see that such prevails."

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur looks from the goblet of wine back to Ceridron and shakes his head, pushing his palm out in the direction of the cup as a sign of rejection. His stomach is already twisting and coiling deeper and deeper into the cavern that rests there. The King feels as though he has eaten something that has rotted in the back of his mouth, a sour taste resting there that he cannot get rid of no matter how many times he might swallow. Ceridron might try and convince the King that this is the best path to choose but the young King soon grows bored of what his friend is saying. The more he speaks, the less likely it is that his words are true. But Arthur is too distracted to even pay attention to them.

"I don't care for your company right now, Ceridron, I wish to be left alone."

"But my Lord," the fellow man speaks, his tongue eager to keep threading lies into the seemingly listening King.

"But nothing, you are dismissed. Go."

Arthur does not look to see Ceridron bow but he can hear the clanking of his necklace or the curling of his leather belt up against his belly as he bends over with ease in respect to his monarch. "Then I bid you good night, Arthur. May your dreams--"

"Out!" Arthur bellows, turning fiercely on his friend as if it were as simple as life or death. Ceridron rushes away at the call of Arthur's thunder and the King feels the weight lift from his chest. Not all of it but a tiny flake. It's better than nothing in his eyes. "But Merlin would never betray me," he ponders aloud as his powerful shoulders lean forward and he rests his hands on the oak desk, "never in her entire life." His tongue slowly licks across his lips before an answer comes into his mind. "Unless she doesn't know she is being tricked!"

At such a thought, the King springs into life as if he were slapped in the face again by Guinevere. "Please be out there, Merlin. Be safe and out of harms way. May the gods assist me in finding you." Arthur scrambles around his room, gathering supplies in his bag as well as calling in a servant to place his padding, chain mail, and a few important plate items, on his chest as fast as the servants fingers can manage. In a breathy thank you, Arthur moves from his room and immediately calls his best knights to his side. Men like Sir Loaniel and Gwaine, are eager to join in and follow their sovereign out the castle walls in a rush of horses hooves and thundering ground. They won't stop until nightfall or they find Merlin.

"Do you know where we are going, Sire?" Loaniel questions when they round another patch of forest and the King, standing straight in his saddle, nods.

"I don't know why, I just… I feel her. Through the air." Arthur swallows, knowing that if any of the other knights heard his words, luckily for him they're cracking jokes and laughing, they might think their King hopelessly in love, or mad. No one, even loyal servants, want a mad King.

 

[Kaisaan]

They'd left the dragon at the clearing, Kilgarrah's advice turning over and over in Merlin's head. He had warned her against power exertion. She had a new body now, identical to the first, but it WAS different now. No scars, as perfect as any infant's because that was what it was, just grown up rapidly before she'd entered it again. Her mind was the same, her body was completely different, such was how regeneration worked. Apparently that storm had actually been her salvation. If she'd stayed within her mortal confines, she would have burned up the body - such was what she did when she had told Arthur she was eating through her own life energy and marrow. She'd been wrong. It was her body she was burning up, her power eating through it not because it wasn't strong enough but because she was drawing too much at once. The more worn down her body had become, though, the more power she'd been able to use, but the more dangerous it had gotten.

Now she was stable again, understanding her limitations again and as long as she didn't push them like she'd done before...she'd be fine. Of course, Merlin could not guarantee she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that, but she'd taken the dragon's advice very seriously and with infinite gratefulness. She'd left Kilgarrah knowing that she would not see him so near to Camelot again. If she needed him, she had only to call, but he would not be here to simply answer her questions anymore.

He'd come to warn about Mordred and he'd done so. Now he traveled back to his mountains.

And Merlin and Guinevere were traveling back home. The healer now understood that she had nothing to fear. As before, she had control again and knowing that would keep her power in check just as much as her new body would. But now it was important they get back. Not only so Merlin could inform Arthur of Mordred's approach but also explain to him what had happened....leaving out a few details here and there... Or at least she thought she should. But...every time she'd kept something of that kind of importance from Arthur, things had not gone well. And she hated keeping things from him anyway.

Wasn't this relationship supposed to be built on trust and love? How could he trust her if she didn't trust him with her? Something this important...she had to tell him. But...maybe not so soon. Merlin nodded to herself. Yes, she'd tell him, but she'd pick her time wisely. Just as she would choose wisely when to tell him of Kilgarrah - something both she and the dragon had sworn Guinevere not to speak of. The Lady had assured them that she wouldn't say anything that was not her place to tell, but she urged Merlin to tell Arthur such important things sooner rather than later.

All was quiet as they rode through the trees, heading back toward Camelot by the same route they'd gone, far quicker than they had the first time. Merlin was in better health now than she had been before and both women knew the way back this time around. So their horses made almost double time and where it had taken them five days to get to their destination, it would take them perhaps three days at the most to get back to Camelot.

Merlin was looking forward to being back with Arthur again...even if she had a lot of explaining to do.

 

[Vacyr]

On the second morning, the King sleeps in longer than he expected. When he opens his eyes, back still on the dry earth beneath him, he finds the light from their only sun piercing the trees above him. His heavy lids shut again, the only thing he thinks about is sleeping for longer. But his knights, sitting around the campfire and laughing with their hearts, hardly give him that opportunity. Each sound burrows itself into the King's skull, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep once more. He turns his body away from them, the linen blanket on top of him sliding from his shoulder to his back. A few of the knights glance his way and make a comment about whether or not they should wake Arthur up or not. Loaniel is the first to shake his head and as the elder of the group, he is listened to intently.

"Give him a few more minutes, the King needs his rest before we search for the second day for Lady Merlin and Princess Guinevere."

"But sir, we will just be wasting the daylight," comments Sir Kelkane, a scowl to his lips, "and it might not be my place to say it but I know that our King wishes to find these two and the only way we're going to do that is getting food in his belly and setting off. The longer we delay--"

Arthur's eyes immediately open and he finds a gusto of strength to sit up and look towards the popping fire, "Then we better get a move on, don't you think so, Sir Kelkane?" His words are not cruel but they hold truth in them, a silent nod passing between the knight and his superior. It's an understanding that Arthur gives all his loyal servants, a wish to hear them out before immediately coming up with his own decision by himself. Help is always awarded in his mind and that might be the very reason he will be remembered. No decision is made without a council meeting first and a long, hardy, discussion on not just the topic but its ramifications for future generations.

Not before too long, the knights have saddled their horses, put out the fire with their boots, and have set off once more to find their prize. Arthur, leading the pack of men with two knights on either side of him, places his hand on his sword as they move towards the deeper, denser, parts of the forest. All their palms become sweaty, even if they deny it being such. Most of the knights are scared of the druids that are said to have lived in such secluded areas along with their shrines and empty villages who haunt the living. But Arthur does not feel the same fear as the knights with their hands on their swords feel. The signs of druids, any sign at all really, will come as a comfort to him for he knows that Merlin would have gone to them.

"Sire, Sire, look!" Points out one knight, the words tingling on the tip of his tongue as he hoists himself up in his saddle and points along the line to the next valley. "Smoke, Sire, smoke!" Arthur, turning to where the knight is pointing, agrees immediately that it should be checked out. If it's Merlin or a group of bandits, they'll soon find out. Now the only sound in this forest is the thunder of hooves pounding the earth and hearts excitedly pounding in their chests. Victory, it seems, might be upon them if they play their cards right.

 

[Kaisaan]

The sound of ringing steel would be heard long before the Knights came upon the camp.

Merlin and Guinevere had woken and were gathering up their camp when eight men had come upon them, thinking the women easy prey. And under normal circumstance they might have been. Guinevere had very limited skills with a blade and all she had at her disposal was a long dagger, but the auburn-haired Lady had been wise enough to bring both Merlin's bow and her sword, knowing that once the healer got back to herself, she'd want them. She'd been correct and Merlin had strapped both on upon waking.

They had come into use at the first sign of danger, her bowing singing and dropping two men even before they'd reached them, enraging the others. The brunette's blade had taken another unsuspecting life upon the bandits arrival and then Merlin had cast her hand out, calling upon the power she'd been trying to suppress the whole trip. It came easily, as docile as a trained hound and gold wrapped around Guinevere like a shield even as the Lady gave a scream, a sword coming toward her, striking off the shield and leaving Guinevere to look at Merlin with relief and wonder both.

Merlin wasn't paying her friend any mind anymore, though, knowing she was safe. Right now she was engaged in a fight with four of the remaining bandits - the fifth still trying to hammer at Guinevere and having no luck - and her training was coming back to her, but so was the reminder that she was NOT back at full strength yet and she couldn't rely on her power for everything, not until she knew what her new limits were and how far to push them.

She managed to dispatch another man, but it was at the cost of fiery pain slicing across her back, barely missing her spine as she cried out and twisted away, survival instinct kicking in. Merlin could feel blood running down her back, soaking into her tunic beneath her torn jerkin and the pain made her dizzy, but she kept her sword up and risked a glance at Guinevere, seeing that the woman was now gaining some courage, rising from the ground - still glowing gold with the protective shield - and now her small blade taking strikes at the man who'd been trying to kill her. There was no guarantee she'd land a hit, but Merlin was proud of her anyway and she turned her dark blue eyes back to her own three opponents, backing up slowly as they approached, meeting the first strike that came toward her, but dreading the moment they'd all three converge again.

She was far too tired, too distracted and now losing too much blood too fast to be doing this. But she'd be damned if she was going to put her sword down and surrender as these men were taunting her to do. They could pry her blade out of her dead hands, she wasn't giving up.

 

[Vacyr]

"Sire?" one of the knights whispers as they walk their way through the tall trees of an unknown forest, "Do you hear that, in the distance?" The entire group settles down, Arthur squinting his eyes as if he were trying to see the sound waves to know where they were coming from. When the next clash of steel is heard, the King closes his eyes and feels through his senses, knowing his eyes would only keep him alive for so long. "I think it's coming from the north, due north."

Upon opening his eyes again, the great King, sitting tall in his saddle despite the long days ride, he looks to the brown haired knight who speaks. "You think correctly," Arthur agrees and then nods his head, checking the moss on the side of a large rock before confirming, "young knight. We shall ride, quickly now!" Digging his heels into the rumbling belly of his steed, Arthur is quick to lead the charge through the woods. Blurs of green, gray, and brown quickly come in and out of his vision, his heart telling him one thing only: Merlin needs you. Then there is that feeling in the tips of his fingers, something not even the drunkest of men could ignore. A signal. A sign. Arthur feels Merlin's warmth intensify, radiate, up his arms. Or perhaps it's the rush of adrenaline he has received from the galloping? Not even the great King knows.

The leaves of the trees whip by his face but he pays the stinging no attention. What small worries trouble his heart when the love of his life is fighting for hers. Arthur feels the air grow thin, his breathing coming in gasps rather than long breaths. It's not like a King to lose control of the only thing giving him life. Breathing, after all, is everything. Without it, the heart won't work and the brain cannot survive. Arthur knows that much from when he almost drowned as a boy. It's something he will never forget. Breathe. Just breathe, Arthur, and everything will be alright. I promise you. His own brain tells him as he comes to a clearing where the singing steel is projecting from.

The first leather back he sees, his silver blade bites into. The charging of his steed gives him enough momentum to slice right through the grim man, wiping that horrid grimace right off his face. Each vein of Arthur's reacts, throbbing for his victory but the man's whose neck he had cut still lunges for Merlin, a figure in Arthur's peripherals. He glances, assuring himself that she is okay and from the front, she is relieved to see him, as he is her. But their contact doesn't last for long, his sword spinning in his grip, his knees guiding his horse with each jab towards another enemy. He doesn't care who they are or why they're here for he already knows the reason. Bandits all have black hearts.

 

[Kaisaan]

((I am on a really crappy, borrowed computer, so posts are going to be slow, but hey, at least there are posts!))

Merlin knew she'd felt such relief before. It was a powerful, tangible, warm feeling that spread through her limbs, her chest, flooding her heart and she knew that she'd have such an experience in the past, perhaps more than once, but always involving Arthur. And once again, seeing his face brought such a feeling to the forefront of her being.

He was here. She didn't know how or why, but he was. He was here and he was fighting the enemy, and he was looking at her with the same relief and happiness that she has expressed to him.

It is enough to make the healer's heart soar like the Merlin she is named for and she lets her sword's point drop to the ground, watching as the four remaining bandits are dealt with. She feels light, warm, like she could float away and yet her knees are buckling, and it takes only one light slap from Guinevere for Merlin to realize that the woman is talking to her, worried, frantic even and Merlin hasn't heard a word of it.

Her dark blue eyes move to pale blue and she smiles a little. "Arthur." she whispers and Guinevere smiles just slightly, exasperated as she shakes her head and looks back to the blood starting to slick the sleeve of her dress red as she helps keep Merlin sitting up. "Yes, he's here. About time, too." The last is directed at the King himself as the Lady looks up to him, her pale blue eyes piercing. Oh, will she have a lecture for him later!

Right now is not the time, though, and Guinevere willingly moves away from Merlin, letting Galahad - who, surprisingly, had been interested in the healing arts ever since Merlin had healed him almost three years prior - take her place as the young Knight rolls Merlin to her stomach and starts to cut through the remaining fabric of her jerkin and tunic, already sliced clean through by the bandit's blade. She is losing a great deal of blood already and he must see how bad the wound is and whether it might have damaged her spine. Still, getting her to a healer would be the best thing to do as he is not one, not truly, and merely knows some of the basic skills to treating wounds.

Merlin doesn't seem to register the pain, though, nor the hands now using cloth to mop up the blood around the long, deep cut on her back. She doesn't hear the hiss of a curse as Galahad sees just how close the sword came to slicing her spine clean open. The cut extends from her shoulder blade all along down, parallel to her spine and then curving toward it at the bottom before stopping just before reaching the bone. It will be agonizing later, but right now...Merlin's dark blue eyes are only for Arthur as her head is pillowed on her arms and her gaze is foggy with blood loss and exhaustion, but she doesn't stop looking at him.

Her mouth curves in a smile for him and even as she bleeds on the ground, it is more than clear that Merlin would not have wanted to be anywhere else because Arthur was here, and that was all she cared about.

 

[Vacyr]

King Arthur is the great bear of Britain. Living through his name, Arthur slashes down his foes as if they were nothing but blades of grass. These men around him, smelling of fire, sweat, and the dank scent of a life in the forest, mean to harm Guinevere and Merlin. It's because of that very fact that they all must be taken care of at Arthur's hands. At least he thinks so, digging his sword through another man's arm. He bellows out in a deep growl, the wound burning but his adrenaline not letting him free of battle yet. The wounded man strikes at the prince with a mace, Arthur's horse rearing in response. The King leans forward in the saddle, compensating for the new angle his horse has given him as he kicks and neighs underneath his weight. The black haired bandit never gets a chance to strike, hoof marks colliding with his chest before falling to the ground.

"Good boy," Arthur breathes to his warhorse, looking around again for any more who might harm his ladies. They are the sunshine of his life and without them, Arthur knows that the world would be a dull and bleak place. "Are you alright?" He yells over his shoulder, moving on his horse from one corner of the camp to the other to reassure himself that no more enemies would come looking for them. But the trees around them hold their breath for Merlin is injured gravely. The creatures around them mourn her already, hiding away in their homes and not daring to be seen by these shining men.

"What?" Arthur shouts when Galahad looks up to meet the King's stern gaze. His face has paled, Arthur notes to himself, the air around them suddenly thick and uncomfortable. All the eyes of his knights turn to Merlin, the first sight of blood making his stomach drop and his palms sweat. "No, no, no," Arthur starts, swinging himself from the saddle. Shaking the earth beneath him, Arthur drops his sword next to his body. So much blood has been lost already, Arthur's eyes wide with fear of Merlin's life. Yet she smiles. Her eyes give him assurance that everything will be okay. Arthur doubts that much is true. With a hand over his mouth, he turns to his men. "Sir Kelkane, we have to get her to the nearest castle. Now. Ride as swiftly as you can and inform the banner men of Sir Lamor that we require medical assistance and we will be arriving at any moment. He is an old friend of my father's. He will agree."